


Connection

by ChrysCare



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrysCare/pseuds/ChrysCare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bunny dragon of despair  oct 27 2014</p><p>universe… G1 / IDW or Bayverse is what I'm picturing. If a writer can make it work with another universe that would be fine too, though it's hard for me to picture it with TF:A.</p><p>So Cybertonians are basically computers -- big, emotional computers with souls, but still computers with all the basic hardware we're familiar with computers having. Hard drives, circuitry, speakers, cameras, usb ports, power cables, wifi… even if physically and culturally these are very differently used. I've run into the idea that Cybertonians maintain a sort of intranet among themselves, and that was omglove, but taking it a step further: what if the autobots used their onboard wifi to maintain a sort of hive mind, to the point that (unknown to humans) the pronouns they and them are more appropriate than he or she could ever be.</p><p>so enter an outsider to the local autobot hive mind: Prowl</p></blockquote>





	1. Praxus

“Sire,” he wants to say. “Can I go out and play with the other Praxians?”

“Just don’t go outside the city walls,” he wants his Sire to say.

“Okay,” he wants to say before running out of the house. But he can’t. He can’t go anywhere. He’s not a sparkling. He has no Sire or Carrier. He doesn’t even have a spark. All he can do is watch. Watch the Praxians go on about their lives. The Praxians he keeps safe through the dome. Praxians untouched by the world outside. Because of him the Quintessons cannot infect the peaceful perfect city. The city that has been standing since the creation of Cybertron. A relic of an old, long ago time when the whole planet was covered in delicate crystalline beings able to have families. 

There were once billions what are now called Praxians. Over the vorns, the numbers of new Praxians has been decreasing. On the thirteenth generation something changed. The sparklings, named after how shiny and sparkling their skin is, had hard metal like armor. Many of the Carriers were lost. By the eighteenth, all created sparklings were made of the metal, only the clear part of their doorwings held a reminder of the crystal.

Of the thousand sparklings, one did not have doorwings. His metal skin was harder than any other. His creators designated him Ironhide. Eight vorns later he became the chief of Praxian Enforcers. 

The Praxians live their peaceful lives because of him. No wars can tear innocence away because of him. No suffering from the outside can dull the bright sparks because of him.

Because of him, the city flourishes.

Because of him, each Praxian can choose what they want.

Because of him, they are free.

Because of them, he cannot be a mech with a spark.

Because of them, he cannot hold another

Because of them, he cannot bond with another.

Because of them, he can never know what it feels like to online within the field of another.

Because of them, he is Praxus.

He cannot be anything but Praxus.


	2. The ones with hidden wings

As Cybertron changes around him, a place called the Nexus, a group of academies in the central district of each city-state where Cybertronians go for education is formed. Praxus watches as the mechs link up, being a silent entity within these hubs he can see what goes on.

The mechs belonging to a certain Nexus are aware of the others in the group around him. They form one mind. He cannot help but put it in comparison to his own. Around the city-state, there are stations. Each station has a processor. There are thirteen in total. Those thirteen are wired to a central core processor, the one where all data is processed and analyzed. 

These Nexus Academies are the central core processor. Each mech connected to the Nexus is one of the processors. The Praxians are the other mechs that are not connected. With his lack of communication to adult Praxians, their lack of communication is with other Nexus’, they need a spokesperson. He has sparklings and the chief of Enforcers, they have a Nexus leader.

Also like the mechs on the outside being linked together, he was linked to all the Praxians. He knew what every single one of them was thinking, feeling and doing. But unlike the mechs outside, the adult Praxians did not know; only sparklings knew. 

A cry fills the air in one of the newly bonded homes. His focus turns to the mechs inside. Darkstone, a seventeenth generation mech and Nightshade, a twenty third generation mech who upgraded a half vorn ago stand in the sparkling’s room. Their black and purple sparkling squirms and cries in his cradle, his first transformation from his pod shape causes him pain. 

“He has no wings,” Nightshade frowns as the sparkling uncurls and lies on his front. 

“Ironhide seems fine enough,” Darkstone picks up the small sparkling. Two small flaps move on his back and doorwings pop up. “See, he has doorwings. They were just hidden. Let’s name him Barricade.”

“Why? That’s unPraxian like,” Nightshade says.

“He has slits in his back the doorwings fall into, they’re like barricades,” Darkstone rubs his thumb over the slits. 

 

Farther down the street, Praxus appears in the berth room of the sparkling just emerging from his pod. Only one creator was here, the Carrier faded during separation. The Sire walks in to check on the blue and white pod. The small hiss of converting pieces start and a small whimper escapes the sparkling. The Sire frowns when the sparkling uncurls and lies on his front. No doorwings flutter on his back. Gold optics shine in the dimmed light. 

“A glitched spark,” the Sire walks out of the room. Praxus steps over to the cradle. The blue and white sparkling chirps for its creators. 

“Hush now little one, it will be alright,” Praxus says and reaches to rub the sparklings chevron only to find the sparkling has none. The Sire stomps back in with a box of tools in his servo. “Ironhide!”

Pounding on the door causes the Sire to stop and grumble. He turns away and a shout comes from the mech as Ironhide’s fist connects to the mech’s helm. 

“Praxus?” Ironhide asks as the Sire falls unconscious. 

“Save the sparkling,” Praxus stands at the cradle. “Send him outside the wall if you must. He has no wings. I fear he will not be accepted here without wings and without creators.”

“I could raise him,” Ironhide says. 

“You are busy with the Enforcers,” Praxus says. 

“I can manage.”


	3. Barricade

The usual orn, nothing exciting. Watch the Praxians online, go to their function, work, leave, arrive home, play with their sparklings, love their mate and fall into recharge. 

All the things he could never do.

Every orn that passes another sparkling upgrades into a youngling or adult and they lose their knowledge he’s here. Their firewalls block the two way link and he is left alone. This vorn alone seven hundred Praxians will become adults. Nearly two hundred will become younglings. 

Nine hundred will lose their connection with him in this vorn and only twenty four sparklings will be created. 

At the current rate with a sixth of the population deactivating while carrying and another sixth following their bondmate, the Praxian race wouldn’t survive their sixtieth generation. They were halfway there.

 

“Prowler,” the black and purple sparkling says, his room dark, crystals hum and glow in various colors.

“Yes, little Barricade,” Praxus calmly says.

“When I upgrade I don’t want to forget you.”

“You have no control over it,” Praxus says. “Your processor will not allow the same connection.”

“Why not?” Barricade frowns as he stares at the ghostly figure in his room. The closest Praxus can get to a mech, a black and white hologram.

“You will be free to choose your own path in life.”

“What function would you want if you weren’t Praxus?”

“There is no capacity in my processor for what I cannot obtain.”

“Surely you got something you’d wanna do from watching everyone.”

“I suppose if I must choose, I would be an Enforcer ,” Praxus says, dome glowing a soft golden. “Protecting and serving Praxians as a single mech.

“I’m gonna be an Enforcer,” Barricade chirps. 

“You should get in your berth. Nightshade and Darkstone are coming to tuck you in.”

“Aww, fine,” Barricade huffs and crawls onto his berth. The door slides away and his creators walk in. “Carrier, Sire, why don’t adult mechs hear Praxus?”

“Honey, no one can hear Praxus, it’s just a story for sparklings,” Nightshade smiles and tucks the blue thermal blanket around Barricade.

“Praxus is not online,” Darkstone says. “It is all just stories.”

“Then why does the dome change colors?” Barricade asks, small servos grasping the edge of the thermal blanket. 

“It is the chemicals in the air interacting with the dome,” Darkstone says, Nightshade presses his chevron against Barricade’s before both mech’s leave.

“Prowler?”

“Yes, Barricade,” the hologram steps closer to the berth.

“They didn’t mean it, did they?”

“Believe what you want, I will still be here whether you do or not.”

“Is it lonely being all by yourself and watching everyone disappear around you?”

“I have no capacity for emotions,” Praxus says.

“Do you want emotions?”

“Go to recharge, Barricade,” the hologram rubs Barricade’s chevron.


	4. Don't forget to remember me

Barricade stands in his room waiting for his creators to take him to the medical center.

“But why do younglings forget you?” Barricade asks, facing the wall.

“Their processors have firewalls that prevent them from speaking to me.”

“Then why do they need them?”

“Once you leave these walls, you need the firewalls to protect you.”

“But you protect us just fine,” Barricade pouts.

“I am also the city-state, for my function I must protect the Praxians.”

“I won’t forget you,” Barricade touches his berthroom wall. 

“That means a lot, Barricade," Praxus says as the door opens.

“Are you ready?” Darkstone asks, Barricade slides his servo in his Sire’s. Barricade looks over his shoulder to see the black and white Praxian standing in the doorway.

“Sire, can I change my paint” Barricade looks down at his mostly black frame.

“You can, we’ll stop by the paint shop.”

‘Don’t forget, don’t forget,' Barricade says over and over in his processor as they near the medical center. The medic picks him up and sets him on the berth. 

“You’ll online with a few new programs to sift through on your own time, your frame will be able to expand over time,” the medic says, Barricade nods and lies on the berth.

‘Don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t for . . .” darkness surrounds him as stasis comes.


	5. Wonder

Barricade onlines from his upgrades, his frame is longer and new programs idle in the background of his processor. 

Praxus watches from the doorway as the medics check over everything to make sure it’s in working order. The number of sparklings decreases every vorn soon there will be no new sparks. Only three sparks were created last vorn. So far only one has been created this vorn.

Barricade hops off the berth and walks out of the medical center. His Sire had to leave because of a case. He starts walking through Praxus until he gets to the wall. The darkened wall slowly fades to clear as it goes up, Barricade climbs the nearest building. Praxus stays quiet, allowing Barricade to choose whether or not to speak to him.

“Ever wonder what’s over there?” Barricade asks as he looks out over the clear part of the dome, the Sea of light shimmers in the dawn. “Prowler?”

“There are other mechs, other city-states,” Praxus says and sits beside Barricade on the roof. 

“I wonder what it’s like.”

“There are no sparklings. Mech frames are created, sparked by Vector Sigma. They complete Academies for their intended function. Once graduated they choose which group of processor hubs to join.”

“What is that?”

“It is where every mech of the group is connected by processor. They share a common belief, work for the same goal, and know what each other is thinking. It is called a hive mind. It would be like you knowing what every single Praxian your generation is thinking.”

“Who would want that?” Barricade frowns as he shudders. “I wouldn’t want anyone else in my mind.”

“I am in your mind.”

“You also created every Praxian.”

“No, I was once just a Praxian,” Praxus says. “It was a long time ago, long before Ironhide, long before your creators and your creator’s creators. I was young like you, just a youngling when the invasion started. We had cities all over the planet. We ran and found Praxus untouched. A spark was needed to activate the dome, a failsafe the founders made. I went when others were debating whether or not to sacrifice someone for the greater good or hide underground. Once the dome was in place, they had no choice but to figure out who sacrificed his spark. They never knew me. “

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Being your own mech?”

“I have no capacity for emotions.”

“Why would anyone what to live like them?” Barricade asks glancing at the bridge and seeing mechs driving along it.

“It is a different way of living. The Quintessons put it in place eons ago and they still use it.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Protecting us from the virus,” Barricade smiles. “No one should have to be controlled by another.”

“I am honored to serve,” Praxus replies.


	6. Change

“Prowler,” Barricade says as he sits at his desk in his room. 

“Yes, Barricade,” the hologram says as he sits on the berth.

“Have you ever tried to be solid?” Barricade turns to look at the mech. 

“No, it never occurred to me,” Praxus replies. “Do you wish me to be solid?”

Barricade nods as he continues to look at the see-through mech. Praxus stands and walks over, in the time it takes to do that his form hardens and is solid. 

“Is this better?” Praxus holds out his servo. Barricade slides his servo over the cool metal. 

“Yes,” Barricade smiles and slides his fingers over the black and white arm. “Is this what you looked like?”

“No, this is a compilation I created for sparklings to associate me with the protecting duties of Enforcers,” Praxus says. “I was a pearl white crystal being.”

“You look nice like this,” Barricade says and presses his chevron against Praxus’. 

“What are you doing?” Praxus stands still as Barricade wraps his arms around him. 

“I . . . I uh, found a program . . . when I was sifting . . . it wasn’t supposed to be opened now, I don’t think.”

“What program?” Praxus asks as Barricade trails his fingers down the solid frame. 

“It’s . . . uhm . . .” Barricade looks away as he holds Praxus’ holoform. “It makes my frame heat up when I’m near you.”

“I do not understand,” Praxus looks at Barricade. The sound of metal sliding away echoes through the room. Blue light shines over Praxus’ holoform. “Barricade, why are you showing me your spark?”

“I . . . feel . . . I feel like I need to . . . feel another’s,” Barricade looks down at Praxus’ chest.

“I have no spark,” Praxus says as he sets his servos on the youngling’s shoulders. 

“Oh,” Barricade frowns and rests his helm against Praxus’ shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“You will find your own Praxian.”

“But what if I want you?”

“I . . . do not see you that way, I suppose I am with another,” Praxus backs away. 

“What? I thought you didn’t have emotions.”

“I do not, I am helping raise a sparkling with a mech. He’s your generation. I see so much of you in the sparkling. His upgrade is scheduled for next orn. I must leave.”

“Can I meet him?” Barricade asks. 

“Yes, he is at Ironhide’s house. “


	7. The Hidden one

Praxus leads Barricade to Ironhide’s house; the chief of Enforcers is reclined on the couch reading a data-pad. The blue and white sparkling chirps as he plays with dolls and toy vehicles. The sparkling looks up at Praxus, chirping and tapping Ironhide’s servo. 

“Praxus, you look different,” Ironhide sets down the data-pad and sits up. Barricade peeks around Praxus’ form. “You brought a youngling.”

“This is Barricade, he wished me to be solid,” Praxus walks over to the blue and white wingless sparkling. He hesitates before reaching down and picking up the sparkling. The sparkling coos and starts tracing the solid frame of Praxus. 

“Carrier,” the sparkling chirps and hugs Praxus. Praxus looks at the red mech with bright optics. 

“He sees you as his Carrier,” Ironhide smiles and pulls Praxus to the couch to sit. Praxus jumps, the sparkling starts crying and Ironhide takes the sparkling out of the shimmering form. 

“We are under attack,” Praxus says and disappears. 

“Come on,” Ironhide says and leads Barricade to the Enforcer headquarters. The dome starts falling around them. Praxians run around the streets. Jets fly over helm and Praxus runs up to them with a small gray pod. 

“He’s online, you need to keep him safe. He is the last Praxian.”

“Praxus!” Ironhide yells as Barricade looks around frantically for his creators with the pod clutched to his chest. A yellow and black Praxian runs toward them and grabs onto Ironhide’s leg. 

“My creators,” the sparkling sniffles. “They’re gone!”

“You’ll be fine little one,” Ironhide continues to head toward Enforcer headquarters. A small black and blue Praxian stumbles and falls offline from massive injuries to his frame. 

“What is going on?” Barricade jumps as a building collapses. 

“We need to get underground,” Ironhide changes direction and heads toward the Praxian temple. The crystal towers crumble and fall in a shower of rainbows. Ironhide takes most of the damage protecting the sparklings. A small white Praxian with blue and red stripes cowers in the hallway. “You need to get farther down.”

“Someone’s down there,” the sparkling says. 

“Who?” Ironhide asks. “No one is supposed to be down there.”

“My brother,” the sparkling says. “He’s my twin, I think he’s in trouble.”

“Praxians don’t have twins,” Ironhide frowns and leads the sparklings and Barricade down to the chambers. 

“Well, we are,” the sparkling runs after Ironhide. They reach the chamber, the gold spark glows brightly. A black and white Praxian sparkling reaches up to the spark. 

“Don’t touch that!” Ironhide shouts but someone touches his chest. Praxus’ holoform holds him back. 

“It is alright,” Praxus says. “Protect the sparklings. We will meet again.”

The black and white sparkling touches the gold spark. Gold light explodes and the room goes dark. Blue optics shine in the darkness. 

“Praxus is gone,” the sparkling says and runs to Ironhide. “We’re all alone.”

“We’re still online,” Ironhide rubs the sparklings helm. “What are your designations?”

“I’m Barricade,” Barricade says as the pod makes a hiss. 

“I’m Smokescreen,” the white sparkling says. 

“We should name him Bluestreak,” the black and white sparkling says as the new sparkling chirps in a long string. 

“What is yours?” 

“Carrier never named him,” Smokescreen says. 

“I . . . I am Prowl,” the black and white sparkling says.


	8. Integration

Ironhide carries Bluestreak as the sparklings and youngling climb out of the ruins of the temple. 

“It’s all gone,” the yellow and black sparkling says. 

“Where did all the Praxians go?” the blue and white one looks up at Ironhide. 

“Where do we go now?” Barricade asks. “Praxus told me that the outside world had processor hubs. I don’t want to be controlled by others.”

“Praxians are immune to it,” Ironhide says.

“How do you know?”

“I went to Iacon for the Enforcer Academy,” Ironhide says. “I tried it. It didn’t work.”

“So we’re safe?”

“No, every mech upon adult upgrades must be a member of a Nexus,” Ironhide says.

“But it don’t work.”

“We need to learn how to pretend,” Ironhide says. 

“How do we pretend what we don’t know?”

“We watch,” Ironhide says. 

“But you’re an adult mech.”

“I have friends in the Iacon Enforcers that will vouch for me to be in their Nexus.”

“So to Iacon,” Barricade says and starts marching off.

“Iacon’s the other way,” Ironhide smirks. 

“Right,” Barricade turns and starts marching the other way. 

“Praxus help us,” Ironhide and helps the sparklings down the rubble. Prowl slides down on his own and runs after Barricade. 

“Stop,” Prowl touches Barricade’s servo. “There’s mechs over there. I don’t think they’re nice.”

“How do you know?”

“I . . . I just do,” Prowl slides his servo in Barricade’s and leads Barricade around the mechs rummaging around the ruins. 

“All the crystals are shattered,” one of the mechs yells. 

“Keep digging,” another yells.

“What are they doing?” Barricade whispers.

“They’re trying to sell them,” Prowl tugs on Barricade’s servo. 

“Praxus said there are no sparklings over there,” Barricade frowns and looks at the sparklings climbing over the debris. 

“We’ll go to a Praxian medic,” Ironhide says.

“They’re all dead.”

“Not all, he left when I left but didn’t come back.”


	9. Other Side

“Jazz!” the blue and white mechling calls as he runs into the room. The silver and black mechling glances up, blue visor glowing. “You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you.”

“Well tell me,” Jazz frowns.

“They’re opening a new hub,” Mirage smiles. 

“And . . .”

“It’s the one we’ve been waiting for!”

“How to jump a caste?”

“No,” Mirage frowns.

“Special ops,” Jazz smiles and grabs Mirage’s servos. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go sign up.”

“Can’t,” Mirage frowns, Jazz glares under his visor.

“Ya tell me about a new hub we’ve always wanted and then you tell me we can’t.”

“Already did,” Mirage holds up the data-pads.

“Oh Primus!” Jazz grabs the data-pad with his glyph. “We’ve been accepted already!”

“Yep.”

The mechlings jump around their shared room at the transition Academy for Iacon mechlings. 

“I can’t wait to start!” Jazz says. 

 

“What if I don’t get in,” the yellow and black mechling asks. 

“You’ll do fine Bee,” Barricade says as he lies on the recharge station. 

“I know I was young but still I miss our comfy berths,” Bumblebee sighs as he sits on the edge of his recharge station. “I don’t even know what half this stuff does. How different are these mechs?”

“Praxus told me a lot about them, they don’t have normal sparks, at least not to us. They can’t create sparklets. Their recharge is an actual recharge their systems type of thing. It’s not what we are used to. Ironhide said he would come by with Ratchet and teach us about the recharge stations.”

“Good, because if I’m going to the special ops hub I need to know how to blend in, I’ll be sharing a room with anther mech,” Bumblebee says. “You said they don’t create sparklets. Does that mean they don’t . . . you know . . .”

“Ratchet says no,” Barricade says. “Which one should I join? I told Praxus that I wanted to be an Enforcer but . . . that was in Praxus. Here, there’s actual crime. And it happens a lot.”

“Ironhide doesn’t complain about it,” Bumblebee smiles and climbs on Barricade’s recharge station. 

“’Cuz Ironhide’s old,” Barricade trails his fingers over Bumblebee’s shoulders. 

“He might get mad at you for saying that,” Bumblebee laughs.

“Well, he is,” Barricade presses his helm against Bumblebee’s.

 

“Tell me!” Bluestreak screams. “I want to listen to the stories!”

“Shut up,” Smokescreen throws a data-pad at the gray sparkling. 

“Bluestreak, do you remember what Carrier Ratchet said,” Prowl says kneeling by the smaller sparkling.

“Not to act up,” Bluestreak sighs. 

“Correct,” Prowl smiles. “The others here don’t know about sparklings and we’re too young to upgrade so we have to be quiet. Sire Ironhide will be back soon, he knows lots of stories. You have to ask nicely though, okay?”

Bluestreak nods and climbs up the couch.

“Why is everything so huge?”

“It’s for adult mechs,” Prowl sighs and climbs up the couch to sit beside the smaller sparkling. 

“They’re huge!” Bluestreak falls backward on the couch. 

“I know,” Prowl falls back on the couch beside him. Smokescreen climbs up on the couch and falls over the two other sparklings. They start giggling and tickling each other until they fall off the couch in a ball. 

“Race you to our room!” Bluestreak squeals and the sparklings run after the gray one. The front door opens and Prowl peeks out of their room. Ironhide sighs as he walks into the room. He bends down to pick up one of the sparkling’s toys. 

“Sparklings,” Ironhide says and Prowl steps out of the room, Smokescreen and Bluestreak smack at each other as they walk out of the room. 

“You need to put up your toys when you’re not playing with them,” Ironhide looks down at them.

“Yes,” the sparklings say.

“But I was going to play with it later,” Bluestreak says.

“You still need to put it up then you get it back out when you want to play with it.”

“Why?”

“If we have company over here, they might see it and ask what it is,” Ironhide says. “Sparklings are not known here.”

“It’s not my fault they can’t have sparklings,” Bluestreak huffs with his arms crossed. 

“Prowl, Smokescreen, I need to speak to you, Bluestreak will you play in here for a little bit.”

“Okay,” Bluestreak chirps and takes his doll from Ironhide. 

“I have vacation until Bluestreak’s upgrades, you two can upgrade at any time,” Ironhide says.

“Finally,” Smokescreen sighs. “It’s becoming a little repetitive if you know what I mean.”

“I am fine with it if you believe it is necessary,” Prowl says. “I am interested in the Enforcer academy. I have possible academies in mind to check out in person.”

“Ratchet will upgrade you two whenever you want.”

“Right now,” Smokescreen crosses his arms. 

“I am ready whenever he has a sufficient time slot off from the medical center,” Prowl says.

“Stop talking like that, you remind me of Praxus,” Smokescreen pushes Prowl.

“I’m sorry,” Prowl says. 

“Smokescreen, don’t push your brother,” Ironhide smacks Smokescreen’s aft. 

“Owe,” Smokescreen jumps as he holds his servos over his aft. 

“Cry baby,” Ironhide smirks. 

“Whatever, old mech,” Smokescreen glares at Ironhide. 

“Watch your mouth, I know where you recharge,” Ironhide shakes his finger in front of Smokescreen’s face. 

“I know where you recharge,” Smokescreen puts his servos on his hips.

“I know where ya all recharge!” Ratchet yells as he walks into the recharge room. 

“I’m innocent,” Prowl holds up his servos. 

“That’ll be the orn,” Ratchet scoffs. “You probably master minded the whole thing.”

“Believe what you will, I am still innocent this time,” Prowl says and walks out of the room. 

“That sparklings is ready to upgrade,” Ratchet points over his shoulder. 

“I am too!” Smokescreen yells. 

“Are you?” Ratchet smirks. 

“I know where you recharge,” Smokescreen glares at the medic with his fists on his hips. 

“I know where all your vital systems are and the quickest way to them,” Ratchet mirroring Smokescreen’s pose. Smokescreen’s optics brighten and he runs out of the room. 

“I think you got him,” Ironhide smirks. “So, about my question earlier.”

“We live in a world where sparks are just life sources,” Ratchet says. “We can never bond.”

“Come on, it’s not like they know what a bond is.”

“They have records of spark signatures,” Ratchet says. “They will know something has changed.”

“Just replace the darn files,” Ironhide slides his servos over Ratchet’s sides. “Can’t be hard, ya practically own the place.”

“I do not practically own the place,” Ratchet sighs. “Fine, we’ll bond when the sparklings are younglings. If either of us spark, we need to terminate it.”

“Praxians are going to be extinct if we don’t spark,” Ironhide frowns. “Praxus wouldn’t want that.”

“Praxus wouldn’t want his people to be experimented on either,” Ratchet glares at the black mech. “How is Bumblebee doing?”

“We’re supposed to go over there to show them how to use the recharge stations. How did you learn?”

“I kidnapped a mech,” Ratchet smirks at Ironhide’s gasp. 

“Serious?”

“Spark serious,” Ratchet says. “A youngling medic, top of his class. He’s now my assistant. His name is First Aid.”

“Wow,” Ironhide says as Ratchet walks away. “Wow.”

 

At the ceremony for placement exams, the Prime stands tall and proud as he looks over the crowd. 

“Sentinel,” a mech says and the Prime looks at his aid. “We need to get you out of the open area. A tip came in that you were in danger.”

“Very well,” Sentinel Prime says taking one last look over the group. 

 

“I can’t wait to see my score,” Jazz falls back on his recharge station. “Ya know it’s funny, where Ah grew up ya didn’t have all this academy stuff.”

“I was the same,” Mirage says sitting on his recharge station. “It was a much simpler time.”

“Ah know,” Jazz flops on his front. “Where did ya come from?”

“A city-state long since gone,” Mirage frowns. 

“Ya wanna know a secret?” Jazz asks. 

“Is this going to be I tell you a secret, you tell me yours?”

“Sure, we can roll that way,” Jazz smiles. “Ya can’t tell anyone.”

“That’s what a secret means.”

Jazz smiles as he lies on his front, armor starts shifting along his back. Two wings slide out and flutter on his back. 

“You have doorwings,” Mirage says. “Only Praxians have them.”

“How do you know about Praxians?” Jazz frowns as he sits up. 

“I . . . my secret is . . . I’m Praxian,” Mirage stops halfway to Jazz’s recharge station. 

“Really,” Jazz jumps up. “Where’s your wings?”

“I . . . was created without wings,” Mirage says. “Praxus always said it was a rare sequence.”

“Praxus? You lived in Praxus?”

“Yeah, where did you live?” 

“Some gutter drain hole thing,” Jazz says. “You were there when the dome came down?”

“Yeah, I was a sparkling,” Mirage says. 

“I remember watching it fall and hoping no one got hurt,” Jazz sits on his recharge station. 

“You know the others always read as brothers to me . . .” Mirage smiles. 

“We can’t,” Jazz frowns. “Not this close to the exams.”

“Then after?”

“Yeah,” Jazz smiles as Mirage climbs on the recharge station to hug him. 

“Feels good to have someone to talk to.”

“Yeah.”


	10. Upgrade

Prowl sits on Ironhide’s recharge station while Smokescreen sits on Ratchet’s.

“Are you looking forward to upgrading?” Ironhide asks.

“Upgrading is just the progression of life, every spark looks forward to it,” Prowl looks at the black mech. “You look good with black paint.”

“Let me rephrase, are you excited about upgrading?”

“There is no room for emotions tagged with upgrading, it happens whether you want it or not.”

“You’re a frame full of starlight,” Ironhide huffs. “Must be related to Ratchet.”

“Our spark lines are not connected,” Prowl looks up at the black mech. “Though yours and mine do.”

“You’re just full of fun facts,” Ironhide says as Ratchet comes in with his equipment. 

“I will put you both into stasis and then work on your upgrades,” Ratchet says. 

“Why couldn’t you do this sooner?” Smokescreen asks. “I mean leave Prowl to play with the chatter box in there.”

“Twins share a spark frequency,” Ratchet says. “We have no idea what would happen if the two of you were upgraded separately and I don’t want to find out.”

“Fine,” Smokescreen lies on the recharge station. 

“When you online you—“

“Save it, just upgrade me,” Smokescreen says. 

“I understand,” Prowl says and lies on the recharge station.

 

Prowl onlines on the recharge station, looking over at the other he sees Ratchet and Ironhide on Ratchet’s recharge station. He walks into the room Bluestreak recharges in. The sparkling is curled up on a pile of stuffed toys. 

“Forgive me,” Prowl says and walks out of the apartment. He looks around, doorwings drooping on his back. “Where do I go now?”

“You can try back to the recharge room,” Ratchet says making Prowl jump. “Smokescreen left earlier. You’re staying here. The more you speak the more I think you are hiding something very important. Spill.”

“Not out here,” Prowl sighs and walks back into the apartment. 

“Okay, go,” Ratchet crosses his arms.

“I’m Praxus,” Prowl says. “The sparkling that housed this frame was getting drained by Smokescreen. He was the dominant spark. The medics didn’t think this sparkling would make it. I lured him to the spark of Praxus and . . . I took over.”

“How sure are you that you didn’t kill an innocent—“

“He was graying!” Prowl yells. “I wouldn’t—not after feeling every single Praxian fade from existence. I was connected to them all, to you, to Ironhide, to Barricade, to Mirage, to Smokescreen, to Bluestreak and to the other Praxians living in the gutter drain hole thing—“

Prowl flinches back and stares at Ratchet.

“That was certainly not my wording,” Prowl sighs. “I’m still connected but it is growing weak. It’ll be gone by dawn. I’m afraid of being alone.”

“Prowl, we are all alone in this new world,” Ratchet says. “You said there are other Praxians out there. You will find one to bond with. You will not always be alone. You have us. We all will stick together because we all know what is going on with each other.”

“We could be a Nexus?” Prowl asks. Ratchet pulls the youngling in a hug.

“Yes, we can be a Nexus. We can be a family.”

“Family,” Prowl smiles. “Family bonds! That’s it! You’re a genius!”

“Why thank you, I’ve never been called that before.”

“I have to start—“

“Hold it right there, this genius says you need to recharge.”

“Fragger.”

“Watch your mouth, youngling.”

“Watch your mouth, youngling,” Prowl mimics. Ratchet slaps Prowl on the aft. “Hey!”

“Recharge,” Ratchet points to the room.

“I’m going,” Prowl sighs.


	11. A Start

Prowl onlines on the recharge station alone in the room. Silence. The room is filled with silence. No longer does he have the connection to the other Praxians. He stands from the station and walks into the main room. Ironhide sits on the floor playing with Bluestreak. He stands in the doorway trying to connect to the black mech. Nothing. He tries reaching over his spark to the small connection to Ironhide. The connection snaps and Ironhide continues to play with Bluestreak. 

‘They don’t need me anymore,’ Prowl glances at the door and silently walks through the room.

“Prowl,” Ironhide says. Prowl continues to walk, the door opens and he walks out without looking back. The streets of Cybertron are busy with mechs and Prowl disappears into the crowd. 

 

Ratchet walks into the apartment; Ironhide lies on the couch with Bluestreak curled up on his chest. He walks into the recharge station to find it empty. 

“Ironhide,” Ratchet says, the black mech onlines his optics. “Where is Prowl?” 

“He left,” Ironhide frowns.

“What do you mean left?”

“He walked out and hasn’t come back. He’s a youngling.”

“He’s also Praxus,” Ratchet frowns. 

“He’s smart,” Ironhide moves Bluestreak to the couch and stands. “He’ll be fine. He’s just a youngling.”

“He cannot connect,” Ratchet frowns and starts to walk to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To find him.”

 

Prowl walks up to the academy Nexus. Three main hubs are still open. The special ops, the tactical and the Enforcers. He starts to walk toward the Enforcers but stops. He could do all three. 

“New to the Nexus?” a red and white mech asks. He holds a data-pad in his servo. 

“Yes,” Prowl says. “Can a mech join more than one Nexus?”

“Of course, it’s encouraged,” the mech says. “Were you thinking of joining them?”

“I want to be an Enforcer but I can do the others as well.”

“What is your designation, I can sign you up for the next wave of tests next orn,” the mech smiles.

“My designation is Prowl.”

“It’s nice to meet you Prowl, I am Red Alert. I am the leader of these three hubs , mainly the Enforcers. If you have any questions feel free to ask me.”

“What are the tests?” Prowl asks. 

“Just to see if you work well in groups and can handle the work load. Many times a mech who says they can handle three can.”

“Thank you,” Prowl smiles and starts to turn away.

“If I may ask, where did you get your doorwings?”

“I . . . I saw a Praxian before the city fell. I had my frame changed to remember them.” 

“I think you’ll do very well in the Nexus.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bunny dragon of despair oct 27 2014
> 
> universe… G1 / IDW or Bayverse is what I'm picturing. If a writer can make it work with another universe that would be fine too, though it's hard for me to picture it with TF:A.
> 
> So Cybertonians are basically computers -- big, emotional computers with souls, but still computers with all the basic hardware we're familiar with computers having. Hard drives, circuitry, speakers, cameras, usb ports, power cables, wifi… even if physically and culturally these are very differently used. I've run into the idea that Cybertonians maintain a sort of intranet among themselves, and that was omglove, but taking it a step further: what if the autobots used their onboard wifi to maintain a sort of hive mind, to the point that (unknown to humans) the pronouns they and them are more appropriate than he or she could ever be.
> 
> so enter an outsider to the local autobot hive mind: Prowl


End file.
